


one of a kind

by luciferTM



Series: the oiyama agenda [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Parents Trap, M/M, as you can tell just by those tags, this is very self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferTM/pseuds/luciferTM
Summary: They pressed the pictures against their chests, minds reeling, hearts hammering on, dizzy with hope.“This is so weird,” Maki said, echoing Mika’s word from earlier. “And impossible. Right?”“Okay,” Mika said, a little breathlessly. “On the count of three, we show it to each other--”“One--”“Two--”“Three,” they both breathed out, and revealed their respective piece of photograph.Even worn by the years, the test of water, and slightly crumpled, the two pieces still formed a whole.Yamaguchi Tadashi and Oikawa Tooru were wearing heavy winter coats and scarfs, shoulders powdered with snow and cheeks too flushed for it to be entirely due to the cold. They wore matching grins. The way they looked at each other made Maki and Mika’s breath catch in their throats.“That’s my dad,” Maki said.“That’s definitely Tooru,” Mika said. “Maki, I think…”“We’re twins,” Maki completed, staring into eyes that shone not unlike her own.Or: Oiyama Parents Trap AU. ForOiyama Week 2018!





	one of a kind

**Author's Note:**

> for [oiyama week](http://oiyamaweek2018.tumblr.com), day 5, breakup/makeup.
> 
> this whole fic is dedicated to my dear [yaya](https://twitter.com/moominyaya) who has been my partner in oiyama, in crime and in life in general for a long time now. the idea for it came up during our japan trip this summer.
> 
> i wrote this chapter during the summer, too. i decided to wait until i had chapter two complete to post it, but… i think now is a pretty good time. at the pace things are going, i don’t know when i will have the time/energy to continue it (i still think i will! i’m just extremely slow and juggling with different wips at the same time) but i want this chapter to be out there, at least. 
> 
> heads up: slight/background matsuhana for this chapter. 
> 
> please also note that i don’t use honorifics for this fic. i thought it was worth mentioning since i recently started to use them (in my last oiyama fic actually), but when i made the last couple of edits on this fic i tried adding them and it felt… weird, so i’m sticking with this format.
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> oikawa mika (海香, the characters for sea and fragrance)  
> yamaguchi maki (真杏, the characters for truth and apricot)
> 
> they are both ten years old. the yamaguchi and oikawa we know are in their thirties.

**SCHOOL TRIP TO OSAKA  
DAY 4 ─  
NARA**

****  


Mika wiped the beads of sweat on her upper lip and announced with a long-suffering sigh: 

“Okay, _okay_ , I’m lost.”

The small streets of Nara were utterly quiet in response. Mika had been walking around the residential area for a while without seeing anyone, and more importantly, any maps. Maybe she passed one by without noticing, busy as she was humming to herself. Either way, the result was the one she had just come to terms with.  
It was seven in the evening, one hour past their meeting time, and she was lost and alone in a city she barely knew.  
She wasn’t even supposed to go explore on her own in the first place. The teachers told them to stay close by and gave them an hour to walk around the parks, but it didn’t look like they were going to do much besides cooing at deers, something Mika had done for ten minutes, then gotten tired of.

She took a long inhale to muster some courage. 

“Alright, Mika, you can do this. You need to find someone, ask for their phone, call Matsukawa... What would be a good rendez-vous point?”

She thought back on what she had seen, and a building flashed through her mind. Museum of photography, if she remembered right. She passed by a few minutes ago, and it should be…

“That way,” she muttered, walking faster at the prospect of being able to rest her aching feet in the near future.

 

  
─

  


“Oh, not _her_ ,” the girl muttered under her breath.

Maki threw her a nasty look. Oikawa -- right, that was her name -- had the decency to look sheepish at being overheard and looked away.

When she saw another student walk towards her, familiar black bandana in sight, her heart leapt in relief during the millisecond that preceded recognition. Oikawa wasn’t the only one to be disappointed.

She would be stuck with this brat while she waited for her teacher, Hanamaki, to come get her.

With only a day to spend there, they didn’t really have the time to walk around the small streets of Nara, focusing on the more educational parts of the town instead. Maki wanted to _see_ the town. Instead of resting on a park bench like the other did, she slipped away, certain she would have the time to make it back.  
She understood her mistake too late. When she crossed paths with someone who knew the area, she barely took the time to catch her breath and ask for directions before breaking into a sprint again. All she asked was where the museum was. _That’s what you get for letting stress get the better of you, Maki._  
She was supposed to meet with her class in front of the city museum, the one with glimmering statues of peaceful buddhas that seemed to look back at you. Instead, she was given the directions to the museum of photography from a couple streets over.

As expected at this hour, the place was already closed. It was a long, gray building, the most modern-looking in the area. Next to the steps, a gentle, wavy slope endlessly led a faint stream of water into a swale.

Maki had enjoyed the moments of peaceful rest that preceded Oikawa’s arrival but hadn’t just sat there waiting. She had jumped to her feet as soon as she saw someone.

“I already phoned my teacher.”

The precision was necessary since they were from different classes, and even from different cities. It was a joint trip -- to save money on transportation on lodging, or so they said.  
Oikawa turned to look at her, as though to make sure Maki was talking to her. _This is uncomfortable._

“You have? Oh. Okay,” Oikawa answered in the same carefully detached way.

They fell into a silence so complete that Maki could hear the sound of water caressing stone. Was Oikawa side-eyeing her water bottle? Maki discreetly assessed her backpack. Maybe she didn’t have any water left. She looked exhausted as well, but she didn’t even dare to sit down.  
Maki, who wasn’t keen on holding grudges, made a split-second decision.

“Want some?”

Oikawa stared at her, an almost comical look of surprise on her face. It softened into a small smile.

“Yeah… Uh, thanks. I don’t have any money left, and I ran out of water a while ago… I drank too much…”

“You’re welcome. It’s really hot, you have to stay hydrated.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Oikawa still hovered above her, hesitant. She pulled a yellow bottle out from her bag. “Look, I’m all out.”

“That lemonade!” Maki almost reached out to grab it. “It’s… Where did you find it!”

The remaining tension evaporated like a stray drop of sweat on warm asphalt. Oikawa grinned. “You know those? They’re so rare that it’s pretty hard to find, but it’s the best kind.”

“Yeah,” Maki said with astounded approval. “Can I look at it?” Oikawa handed her the bottle, and Maki gave her water bottle in exchange. “I only remembered that the label said _yuzu_ … I found it the other day in Osaka and I couldn’t find it again. All the other lemonades, the ones you see everywhere, are…”

“ _disgusting_ ,” the both of them said in unison. They winced, broke into laughter. 

Maki moved over, patting the stone next to her decidedly.  
Oikawa sat down and took long swigs of Maki’s water bottle. The sky darkened from deep pink to purple.  
Oikawa closed the cap very slowly, and without looking at her Maki knew she was getting ready to say something.

“About the other day…”

“What’s your name?”

“Uh?” Oikawa suddenly looked up at her, and Maki was stricken once again by how similar they were.

“Your first name, I didn’t catch it.”

“It’s Mika. Oikawa Mika. You’re…”

“Yamaguchi. Maki,” she added belatedly.

“Right!” Mika beamed. “Even our names sound almost the same… It’s kind of funny.”

Maki raised a brow. “Oh, so you did notice we look alike.” Despite how ardently she had brushed it off on the bus trip back to the inn the day before, loudly enough for Maki to hear from a few seat over.

Mika’s face flushed. “Yeah, well, about that. I shouldn't have said... all that stuff.”

Maki waved her hand dismissively.

“Me neither.” Her voice turned faint. “Sorry.”

Mika’s smile reappeared, just like that. Maki fiddled with the label of the lemonade bottle so she would have something to do.

“Hey, your bracelets are really pretty,” Mika said suddenly.

“Thank you.” 

“Did you make them yourself?”

“I did.”

“That’s so cool! I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not very complicated...” Maki said, wondering if her next words should be _I could teach you_. But Mika wasn’t listening to her.

“I only wear this,” Mika said, reaching past the edge of her shirt and pulling out a necklace.

A silver necklace with her name written on it, shaped like a medal, and the spitting image of the one Maki was wearing under her own tank top, against her stammering ribcage.

“What?” Mika stared at her anxiously. “You look…”

“There you two are!”

They both jolted upright.  
Hanamaki, panting, stopped running as he reached them and bent into two to catch his breath.

“We were so worried. What exactly happened to you two?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called hurriedly. “Yes, I’ve got them-- They’re fine! We’ll join you as soon as we…”  
Hanamaki looked up as them and realization dawned on him. 

“Matsukawa,” he muttered. “Does this girl happen to be Oikawa’s daughter? The other one is Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi Maki… Yes. I’m serious.”

Mika and Maki exchanged a glance.

“Well, I didn’t know you were going to bring-- Okay, so this is both of our mistakes… How did we not realize? … I don’t know. Yeah, well, they aren’t stupid.” He made a face at something Matsukawa said. “Right.” His attention turned to the girls again, and Mika fumbled with her necklace. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

“I have to go,” Hanamaki said, “let’s meet in the morning. I’ll get a hotel.” He hung up and let go of the breath he had been holding, cursing in a very low voice, Maki suspected, so that they couldn’t hear (which was pointless -- she’d heard her dad swear more than once when writing was giving him trouble).

“So?” Mika insisted.

Hanamaki scratched the back of his neck, visibly unsure where to start.

Maki decided to take the matter into her own hands.  
From the slight shine of Maki’s necklace, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashed across Mika’s face.  
Maki licked her lips, mouth hopelessly dry despite all the water she had just drank. 

“Mika, say,” she asked once her voice decided to obey her. “What is your family like?”

****  


**SCHOOL TRIP TO OSAKA  
DAY 3 ─  
AN IMPROMPTU VOLLEYBALL MATCH ******

****

****  


Mika had never thought she would be one to cry over a victory. 

When Hanamaki and Matsukawa offered that the two classes join for a friendly volleyball match, she had whooped. She was the first one to collect equipment and change, despite the tiredness of an entire day walking around Osaka etched into her limbs. She helped Hanamaki stretch the net between two tall trees as the birds in the park they’d chosen peeped in anticipation. 

She had been trained by her dad, one of the best volleyball coaches in Japan, ever since she was old enough to walk and hold a volleyball in her hands. With decent teammates, she could crush the opposite team.  
And this girl, whoever she was, waltzed in, put on protection glasses that made Mika snort because they were too big for her, and--  
proceeded to harass her.

No matter. They were still winning. Mika was better both at spiking and at blocking than her opponent, and judging by the way she tsked when her spikes got slammed down, the girl was aware of it. 

The girl’s turn to serve came, and Mika gritted her teeth so hard her jaws ached.  
After watching countless videos of her dad perfecting his spike-serve, as she came to call it, and seeing him do it in person with blood-curdling accuracy, she was more familiar with aggressive serves than most people. She wished that girl’s serves were as straightforward. The ball floated and dropped randomly, forcing her to try and guess its course.  
Before she could get used to it, the girl switched it up, and hit a serve that bounced off Mika’s arm the one time she was close enough to try and receive it properly. When Mika tried to guess the course for those serves, she lost the time she would have needed to properly position herself for the receive. If those were the only kind of serves that girl was capable of hitting, it would have been a done deal. They weren’t powerful enough for Mika to fail to receive them in the long-run if she could prepare for it.  
The floating serves messed everything up.  
Her team was scrambling for points to make up for her mishaps. Hers alone, as she was the girl’s only target: the girl’s regular serves would always land around Mika. Never aiming quite at her, but a few steps away.  
If Mika didn’t know how the girl figured out what pace to adopt, she was good enough at sensing and analyzing a match’s momentum to know that she had been cornered. Her teammates kept telling her not to mind, so she had no choice but to forge on. She put all of her frustration into her spikes, her blocks, and consistently coordinated the team’ efforts.

The whistle blew and pulled her out of an exhausted daze. 

“Congratulations to the blue team,” Matsukawa said. 

“Yeah, yeah, your team worked together better,” Hanamaki admitted. 

“But that forward’s serves sure are something,” Matsukawa said. “You know, they remind me of-- Hey, you, don’t throw the ball up in that tree!” 

Mika kicked at the grass. Pointless at it was, she was hoping it would make her feel a bit better. A bitter blend of sadness and anger settled at the back of her throat instead.  
Had that girl played more cohesively with the other players on her team, she could have won. 

The girl, Mika could see in the corner of her eyes, wasn’t smiling. She was eyeing her still. Mika raised her chin defiantly and didn’t grace her with a single glance. 

“Now line up, and shake hands,” Hanamaki said. “That’s how you do it.”

“Mika, c’mon,” her friend Hiyori whispered. 

“Captain in front of the captain,” Matsukawa said, and Mika complied, still without raising her gaze. Mika could see the girl’s chest rising and falling, caught a glimpse of the colorful bracelets that covered her wrists.

The girl held out her hand. 

“Your blocks are really good,” she said.

Mika snapped.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I wasn’t,” the girl said, her tone significantly cooler. “You won, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, we _won_ ,” Mika said. “Because everyone here knew how to play as a team.”

She’d gone too far. She knew the moment she said it, but that girl had been the one making it personal in the first place. 

“Excuse me?” The girl withdrew her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, least _I_ know how to serve properly.”

It hit her then, the memory of pistachio ice-cream and sweat sticking to her stick like it did now, a gentle hand ruffling her hair. She’d say one more, one more until her throat was sore, and he laughed, the ball swirling in his hand.  
_“Tooru, when are you going to teach me how to serve like you?”  
“Soon. Work on what you have for now, okay?”_

“What?” Mika muttered, livid to the point where anger had been drained from her voice.

“You heard me.”

“You-- You think you’re so good you can afford to play on your own, you’re the worst kind of player--”

The girl lunged at her. In a blink, Mika was pinned to the floor, kicking down. 

“Take that back!” the girl exclaimed.

“Let go of me,” Maki managed. She shoved the girl back.

“That’s enough!” 

The girl yelped in protest as Matsukawa grabbed her and pulled her away. Mika sat up, resentment still shortening her breath, beating heavy in her limbs.

“Are you okay?” Hanamaki asked Mika, extending a hand to help her up. 

“Yes. Thank you,” Mika said. 

“You provoked her,” Hanamaki remarked.

“I think they both share the blame,” Matsukawa estimated, “but _fighting_ is unacceptable behavior. Do you hear me?”

Maki nodded, arms held very tight against her chest. Mika gave her the stink eye.

“I’m letting Hanamaki deal with his own students. As for you,” Matsukawa told Mika with a piercing stare, “your father will hear about this.”

Mika froze, dread instantly overtaking her. “No, please,” she whispered. Her eyes welled up, adding to her humiliation. “Please don’t tell him.”

Matsukawa sighed. “Come here,” he said, more gently. “We need to talk, you and I.”

As Matsukawa led her away, she threw a glance over her shoulder. The girl was taking her glasses off.  
Mika stopped walking, and if Matsukawa hadn’t pulled her along, she probably would have stood there, staring. 

The girl had stared back with that scornful look of hers, as if to say, _can you see it now? That sure took you awhile._

It was a coincidence. It had to be. They said everyone had a lookalike somewhere in the world. Disturbing, but not impossible. Mika pushed the matter to the back of her mind.

Once they were far enough from the rest of the students to talk without being heard, Matsukawa knelt in front of her, eyeing her attentively.  
She always liked him. He never tried too hard to be nice, just because she was a kid or his student, much less the daughter of a close friend. It made her all the more eager to prove herself.

“Mika, why did you say those things?”

Mika bit her lip. “I just… She kept aiming those serves at me and… it was awful.” 

“Why do you think she did that?”

“Dunno. I know it’s a tactical move or whatever, I mean, it obviously worked--”

“Come on. You do know. If it was you, who would you have aimed them at?”

“The libero,” Mika answered automatically.

“Why?”

“Because he’s the best at receiving, so if the best receiver can’t get your serves, it deals a fatal blow to the team’s mo--... Oh.” Matsukawa granted her a thin smile.

“See, you get it. I think she was just as aware of your ability as you were of hers. And even if she hadn’t been… You have to conduct fairplay, Mika. You love volleyball, right?”  
Mika’s lips parted to explain what had happened to her. All that came out was a sob. “I-I’m sorry… Please don’t tell Tooru…” 

Matsukawa’s gaze softened. “You miss your dad, don’t you?”  
There could be a dozen reasons, ones she could blame on that girl -- tiredness, helplessness, isolation, her mood turned sour, her sense of responsibility -- but it all came down to a single admission she couldn’t bring herself to make.  
Hearing it vanquished what was left of her pride. Her vision grew smudged with tears.  
She looked away, and Matsukawa politely remained silent. 

“It’s stupid, right?” she hiccuped. “I’m not a little kid--”

“It’s not stupid. You know, I bet he misses you just as much. Do you want to try calling him?”

“Yes,” Mika said, wiping her eyes. If he knew she had been crying, he would worry. “Please. I can call, I’m fine.” She inhaled slowly, deeply, trying to steel herself.

“You are? Good.” Matsukawa handed her a tissue, then pulled out his phone. His hand wrapped round Mika’s as she took it. “Don’t push yourself, alright? Just between you and I, your dad worries.”

“He does?” 

“Mhm. He knows you’re the type to take on more than you can handle,” Matsukawa said, his smile creasing fond lines in the corner of his eyes. “He was the same for quite a while, see. Still is sometimes.” 

Mika mulled that over.

“You know, Mattsun,” she said in earnest, “you’re totally right.”

“Hey, where did your polite speech go? Here it’s teacher, remember?” 

“Yes, yes,” Mika said without lifting her gaze from the screen.

“Give it back immediately when you’re done,” Matsukawa called out. He made his way to the rest of the class. 

Mika waited for her breathing to steady completely, then pressed call and raised the phone to her ear. 

****  


**SCHOOL TRIP TO OSAKA  
** **DAY 4─  
EVENING  
HOTEL IN NARA**

****  


The hotel room was small and unadorned, paper-thin walls and narrow beds, but judging by the face Hanamaki had made when he had pulled out his credit card, it didn’t make it cheap. Maki and Mika had shared a guilty look. Hanamaki had waved it off by telling them he would rather pay for it than take the train to get back to their inn in Osaka. He did seem exhausted, which did not do much to alleviate their shame.  
When he noticed their lingering stares, Hanamaki told them that their dads could be informed and asked to pay him back if they really wanted, suddenly making the two of them eager to talk about more pressing, elusive matters. 

“Alright, you two,” Hanamaki said. “I’m going to take a shower. Stay _here_. I’ll explain everything after.”

Mika opened her mouth in protest, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“I will, I promise. I just _really_ need a shower,” he said, and with that disappeared in the bathroom.

Maki fell down on her back on top of one of the beds, sighing. Mika tossed her bag to the floor next to hers and sat, crossed legs, by Maki’s side.

They waited, listening to the sound of running water, the silence between them buzzing with shared impatience... for at the very least two whole minutes.

“Okay, screw it,” Maki said, standing upright. “Mika, Matsukawa mentioned your dad--”

“Yeah,” Mika breathed out, thankful for the initiative. “He’s a volleyball coach in Sapporo, maybe you’ve heard of him? His name is Oikawa Tooru.” She beamed with pride. “He was really famous as player and now, he’s one of the most famous coaches in Japan.”

“Haven’t really heard of him.”

“That’s fine. What about your family?”

“I only have a dad too… Well, that’s not quite right. We’re living with relatives right now, and Dad has a lot of friends that visit sometimes. I guess I grew up with them too, you know.” Mika nodded emphatically. 

“That must be nice,” she said. “Mine doesn’t really have family, apart from my grandparents. A couple of close friends too, though.”

“Did you ever have a mom?”

“No. I’m adopted.”

Maki, who was reaching for something inside her bag, paused mid-way.  
Mika stared down at her hands, anticipating for Maki to react in the way people usually did-- by smiling awkwardly and giving her an opening to change the subject. 

“You are? I am too,” Maki said. Mika’s eyes darted back to her face. “I know that Dad adopted me with someone else, but he never told me his name,” Maki added.

“Me neither,” Mika muttered. “All I have is a stupid picture that’s half wet and torn down the middle.”

Maki froze once again, then raised her wallet in the air with shaky hands. “Really, because… I have one too.”

Mika, wide-eyed, dug her nails into the bedsheets. “You _do_? That is so weird...”

Frantic, she pulled out a small picture covered in a plastic film from inside her pocket. “I take it with me everywhere.” She caught the look in Maki’s eyes. “Wait, you don’t think--”

“Only one way to find out,” Maki said, pulling out her own picture from her wallet precipitately. 

They pressed the pictures against their chests, minds reeling, hearts hammering on, dizzy with hope.

“This is so weird,” Maki said, echoing Mika’s word from earlier. “And impossible. Right?”

“Okay,” Mika said, a little breathlessly. “On the count of three, we show it to each other--”

“One--” 

“Two--” 

“Three,” they both breathed out, and revealed their respective piece of photograph.

Even worn by the years, the test of water, and slightly crumpled, the two pieces still formed a whole.  
Yamaguchi Tadashi and Oikawa Tooru were wearing heavy winter coats and scarfs, shoulders powdered with snow and cheeks too flushed for it to be entirely due to the cold. They wore matching grins. The way they looked at each other made Maki and Mika’s breath catch in their throats.

“That’s my dad,” Maki said.

“That’s definitely Tooru,” Mika said. “Maki, I think…”

“We’re twins,” Maki completed, staring into eyes that shone not unlike her own.

The following silence coiled around those words, too big to be held in tightly-wound chests. They filled Mika and Maki’s minds, the room, coloring everywhere they would look and everything they would touch, and with every breath the two of them carved truth a bit more into the air.

Eventually, their gaze met again, and they broke into identical chuckles. Maki wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. Mika cleared her throat.

“Ah, I remember this.”  
They both startled and stared at Hanamaki, both because they had been close to forgetting he existed and because of the life-altering vision of a teacher turned human. Erupting from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, he was wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants, and a towel around his neck.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said. “I guess you guys didn’t need me, after all.”

“Yes we do,” Maki said, remembering. “You know about this? You know my… our dads?”

Hanamaki snorted. “I know Oikawa, that’s for sure. Haven’t seen him in awhile, though, but Is-- Matsukawa keeps me updated. I knew he had a daughter, I just didn’t realize you were here.”

“What about Yamaguchi? Did you know him? Did you know we were twins?” Mika bursted out.

“Slow down,” Hanamaki laughed. “Let me finish.” He made a small hand gesture to ask Mika to move over, and she hurriedly snuggled close to Maki to let him sit, one hand holding her knees to her chest. Her other hand instinctively found Maki’s. 

Once he was settled, Hanamaki continued: “I don’t know Yamaguchi very well, but I’ve seen him a number of times, and he seemed like a good guy. They were talking about adopting for awhile, and the next time we saw Oikawa, months later…” His smile disappeared. “He had you, Mika, and he was… different.”

“Heartbroken?” Mika tried. Maki squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, you could say that. He didn’t want to talk about the breakup, so we were forced to drop the subject. And he seemed happy still, thanks to you. Only,” Hanamaki made a face, “he never told us you guys were twins. I hadn’t seen Mika in years-- you probably didn’t even remember me, did you?”

Mika frowned and shook her head, apologetic.

“It’s okay. I think the last time I dropped by in person was when you were six. When I first saw Maki, I noticed the resemblance, but you know, there are quite a lot of people called Yamaguchi… I didn’t check your student file. I should have. I had my suspicions, I just didn’t think those two would be that dumb-- maybe I _hoped_ they hadn't been.” 

He realized who he was talking to and attempted to nuance his judgment, but Mika interrupted him before he could: “It’s fine, it really is dumb. What kind of arrangement is this?”

Maki nodded, deep in thought. “I can’t imagine Dad agreeing to this so easily, though. They must have had a reason, but it’s still...”

“Yeah. Anyway, I realized what must have happened when I first saw you standing next to each other,” Hanamaki said. “There’s no way you aren’t related.” He lowered his head with an earnest look that made him look younger, and more vulnerable than either twins were comfortable with. “Sorry you had to learn about it this way.”

“It’s fine,” Maki said, with quiet but unmistakable irony. “Better late than never, right?”

Mika sighed, resting her chin on top of her knees. “I mean, you _could_ say that. Can you imagine it? We could have gone our whole lives without knowing.”

“When you think about it like that,” Maki said, “I’m kind of mad at them.”

“I am too,” Mika agreed. 

“Well, I guess they’ll have to face the music now,” Hanamaki said. “You want to talk about it face to face, I suppose?”

They looked at each other and nodded.  
He smirked.

“Can’t say they won’t have it coming.”

“Wait,” Mika said. “You told us you remembered when that picture was taken…”

“Oh, yes. We spent new years’ together one time. Those two were stuck together the whole day.” Hanamaki narrowed his eyes, remembering. “They pulled a _very bad luck_ fortune and didn’t care. You could say it caught up to them in the end. For what it’s worth,” his gaze grew unfocused, his voice quieter, “I doubt either of them believes in fortune, even now.”  
He yawned and got up to his feet, wavering slightly from the effort before stabilizing. “I’m going to the _combini_ , what do you want for dinner?”

  
─

  


Maki lay in the dark, trying to keep her tossing and turning quiet and failing. Hanamaki, at least, wouldn’t be bothered. He had been sound asleep in the other bed practically since his head came in contact with his pillow. Maki had thought herself tired before they went to bed, but in the dark, weariness was not match for the million thoughts that knocked about inside her head, the electricity in her bloodstream. The urgency.  
How could she sleep with a sister she knew nothing about a few feet away?  
_A twin_ , she corrected, and allowed the words to linger long enough for them to feel as tangible as the silhouette next to her.

Mika was still, arms crossed behind her head. Her eyes gleamed in the faint light that outlined the curtains. Maki knew she had been awake this whole time, the same way she had known, back in front of the museum, that Mika was trying to figure out what to say. She wondered if restlessness heightened her senses, or it was something else.  
She wouldn’t know.

“Say, Maki. What’s Dad like?”

Maki shifted closer to her in a ruffle of sheets. “He’s great. We spent a lot of time together, and he always knows how to make me laugh or talk, even when I don’t want to-- knows me too well, really.”

“You can’t just tell me that, I wanna know stuff like, well, does he ground you often? Is he the watch-a-movie-together-but-do-your-homework-first kind of dad or a do-whatever-as-long-as-your-grades-are-good kind of dad? Do you go on trips? He taught you volleyball, right, and…” Mika groaned. “This is pointless. I wanna know _everything_ , but you’re going back tomorrow, and so am I, and we’re just…”

Maki swallowed. “Yeah,” she said, barely audible. “I know.”

Then she said, both because she couldn’t resist asking and because she really didn’t like the silence that started to stretch between them: “He’s the I’ll-help-you-do-your-homework-or-at-least-try-and-be-proud-no-matter-what type, I guess. He’s a bit cheesy that way. What’s Tooru like?”

Maki distinctly saw her sister grin. “He’s cool.” Her grin widened. “But he can be a dork too.”

Maki giggled, then pressed a hand over her mouth. They both remained still, listening closely in deafening silence.  
Hanamaki let out a long sigh, almost a whine. Mika snorted, which made Maki giggle harder into her hand.  
On unspoken yet common accord, they both slipped under the cover.

“They seemed so happy in that picture,” Maki murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I wonder what happened. Dad seems _great_ , I can’t imagine Tooru letting him leave.”

Maki considered that for a moment. “Did he ever seriously date again?”

“Not seriously. It’s kind of weird, because he _could_. People flirt with him a lot, but he always says he’s too busy with volleyball and with me -- the two loves of his life. He probably just says that so I won’t worry.”

“You think so?” Maki turned to lay on her back, gazing into the small pit she made of the cover with her outstretched hand. “Dad’s never really dated for long either. He works as a freelance writer, you know, so he doesn’t need to go out that much. I think he uses that as an excuse sometimes.” 

“He’s a _writer_? Damn it,” Mika moaned. “I really want to meet him. Like, even more.”

Maki sat upright so abruptly that she pulled the cover with her, eliciting a muffled _hey!_ from Mika.

“I have an idea,” she said. “It’s completely and utterly unreasonable and we’re going to be grounded for the next twenty years.”

“You sure know how to make _that_ sound appealing,” Mika deadpanned. She sat up as well to face Maki. “What is it?”

“We switch.”

“Switch as in,” Mika slowly said, “trade places?”

“As in, you go back to Kyoto in my place and meet Dad, and I go back to Sapporo in your place and meet Tooru. And to unswitch us… they’ll have to meet again.”

Mika remained silent for a long moment. Since she was looking away, Maki couldn’t quite make out her expression.

“Forget it,” she said, moving to lay back down, “it’s a bad--”

“ _No_. Let’s do it,” Mika said, turning to face her again. Her eyes held a spark that Maki already knew to be the sign that she would not back down. “We can pull it off. And I don’t care about being grounded for the next thousand years if I can meet Dad. Besides, they both deserve it.”

“Fair enough,” Maki murmured. Mika was pushing the covers away and taking quiet steps towards the bathroom.  
She turned round when she realized she wasn’t being followed.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We should take care not to wake him up.” She grinned again, and Maki wondered if her smile ever looked anything like that. She wouldn’t mind if it did. “We have a lot of work to do!”

  
─

  


“And, oh, I’ve been playing guitar for about three years, you can probably get out of that one pretty easily through, pretend you practiced while he was out or something… You don’t play instruments, do you?”

Mika sat on the bathtub’s edge, legs swinging, while Maki sat on the toilet seat with the notebook she had pulled out of her bag on her lap. The bathroom was small, but not that small that their knees had to be almost touching, with Mika leaning over to talk to her. Not that Maki even thought of complaining.  
They took turns writing in the notebook and talking about whatever that they didn’t want to bother putting down on paper. Maki had taken it upon herself to organize Mika’s notes while her twin rambled on. It was daily routines, helpful tips, maps, it was feverishly trying to catch up on ten years in one night. As Mika talked her throat raw, Maki drew boxes with swift strokes of the pen, trying to contain the flood. Soon enough, they would get lost in a memory, bringing about another anecdote, and all they had was this notebook and sore fingers scrambling to cage water.  
The thought she had been repressing slithered its way into her mind. If they failed, those few pages of scribbles would be all they had left.  
Maki stopped writing.

“Tired?” Mika said instantly. “Want me to take it?”

“It’s okay, I just…” 

Mika examined her with a look of concern. “Having second thoughts?”

Maki shook her head. “Definitely not. I was just… thinking.”

Mika’s lips curled into a tentative smile, one that almost seemed a question.  
The picture Mika painted was slowly taking form in Maki’s mind, and through all she had were egregious words, facts, and too much advice for her to remember, Maki traced the shaky contours of the life she couldn’t have shared. Trying to get a sense for Mika’s daily life in Sapporo only made everything she was describing seem more distant and Mika seem closer.  
_I want to know everything_ , Mika had said, and to Maki, that didn’t sound absurd when her mind echoed _I want to know you._  
Helpless affection welled in the pit of her stomach, a blend of a fondness she didn’t know what to do with and apprehension at the mere thought of parting, already.  
Mika poked her cheek, adamant. Maki swatted her hand away.

Mika made a disgruntled noise, leaned over a bit more, and as if stricken by the obvious:  
“Ah, before we do anything else, _this_ has to go.”

Mika pointed at her sister with a stern look. Maki stared at her, momentarily confused, before grabbing her braid with both hands. “No!”

“I’m afraid we have to.”

“We? Easy for _you_ to say!”

“Listen,” Mika said, a sliver of annoyance seeping into her tone, “you’re the one wearing contacts.”

Maki let go of her braid. “That’s true. What will you do?”

Mika hummed nonchalantly. “Lie and say I forgot to put them on if he notices. Improvise. Is Dad observant?”

“Pretty observant when it comes to us,” Maki said. “Is Tooru?”

Mika gave her a _look_.

“Guess I’ll…” Maki started.

“Be really careful,” Mika advised. “If you’re really in a pinch, pretend to be sick. He’ll panic a little, but it’ll definitely distract him.” Maki jotted that down. “Are you sure you’re up to acting like me all of the time? Do you want me to coach you really quick, or something?”

“I can already act like you,” Maki assured; then, mimicking a high-strung tone: “You’re the worst kind of player!” 

Mika chuckled, embarrassed. “That was vastly exaggerated… You just weren’t comfortable as a captain. You have to assert yourself more! It’s such a shame you couldn’t connect with the rest of the team. Tooru always gets frustrated when he has to work with players like that. He says it’s the worst kind of habit…” She frowned, as though trying to decipher a string of clues. “That the players who isolate themselves are the hardest ones to help.”

Maki remained silent for a moment before confessing with quiet intensity: “I just don’t make friends as easily as you do.”

“Why not?”

Maki shrugged. 

“I mean, you’re cool,” Mika said. 

Maki laughed, startled. “Me?”

“Yeah! You’re my sister, of course you are,” Mika insisted.

“What kind of compliment is that?” Maki said wryly, but she was smiling. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Mika gave Maki’s shoulder a light punch. “Gee, thanks.”

Meditative silence enveloped them for a moment, Maki looking over her notes and Mika lost in thought, until it hit them, and they both looked at each other at the same time. Right.

“I’ll go get the scissors, ‘should have some small ones in my pencil case,” Mika announced. Maki sighed. 

“I’m just glad neither of us is wearing braces,” she mumbled.

  
─

  


Their night of preparing and plotting was followed by an early trip back to Osaka, limiting the amount of sleep they would get to a few stolen moments of dozing off on the train. Mika didn’t really mind. Past the first few hours, her body kept jostling her awake, thoughts bustling about in the back of her head like the people striding across the station, united by the same force in their disparity, like the shudder of a compass about to point north.  
Nobody raised an eyebrow at Maki pulling perpetually at the sleek ends of her hair. It confirmed what Mika had been suspecting: she herself was way too fidgety. Even now, the urge to grab her pendant -- the one that said 真杏 -- and trace the unfamiliar characters was a constant itch.  
More disorienting yet were the bracelets around her wrist and the clothes that, no offense to Maki, she would have never picked for herself. (Cargo pants, Maki, really? Well, at least her blouse was cute, even though it wasn't Mika’s style.)  
On the other hand, Maki looked great in her clothes, as she ought to-- something she couldn’t help but to say out loud, eliciting a pointedly unimpressed stare, a head shake and the faintest smile from the person in question. 

The bus' motor was a low rumble as they got nearer. Her chest swelled with eager ripples, a second whirring beneath her skin. _This is it._  
As though he had heard her, Matsukawa then turned to the students and said:

"This is where we part, everyone. We're taking the blue bus over there, to the airport, and Hanamaki is taking the black one."

"It was very nice to meet you all. I hope you enjoyed the trip," Hanamaki said. There was a chorus of _yes, thank you_ and _take care_ in response.

The students' goodbyes to each other were casual -- a few fist bumps, last minutes mail exchange, some simple _see you_. Mika glanced at a Maki, who looked as impatient and unspeakably nervous as she felt. She took a step towards her, but before she could, Maki threw her arms around Mika's neck.

"Good luck," she whispered. 

Mika nodded, her head resting on Maki’s shoulder -- which wasn't as easy as it sounded, them being the same height. "We'll be okay. We'll definitely make it."

"You have everything, right?"

"For the thousandth time, yes." Mika pulled away and smiled at her. "You can call me if anything comes up."

"And you'll do the same," Maki said.

"It's time," Matsukawa called out. Mika grabbed her bag and gave one last small wave as Maki, too, turned away.

Mika climbed the steps so fast she almost tripped and greeted the bus driver with a carefreeness that was definitely un-Maki. The unfamiliar clothes were far from being as stuffy as the giraffe costume with holes for eyes she had been in during the school play last year, but the face Maki’s schoolmate saw before they looked on was hers. If only in passing, it gave her a peculiar feeling she wasn’t sure she would have liked-- if she had bothered to care for it, that is.  
_I’m going to see him in just a few hours, I’m going to see him_ , Mika told herself once again. The exhilaration was the same each time. This trip was setting out to be an amazing kind of torture.

"Hold it," Hanamaki bellowed. "Oikawa Mika. Yamaguchi Maki. Come back here, the both of you."

Mika emitted something between a squeal and a wheeze. She looked out the window and hurried out, seeing Matsukawa leading Maki off the bus.

Hanamaki stood between the two vehicles, arms crossed over his chest.

"What is it, Takahiro? We have to go now,” Matsukawa reminded him.

"Look at them," Hanamaki said.

"I already know that they--" Matsukawa narrowed his eyes. Mika did her very best not to squirm. She couldn't help side-eyeing Maki, whose expression betrayed nothing, while hers was probably a confession on its own.

"Um, we--"

"Mika," Matsukawa softly said. A single word, a slap to reality.

Maki looked down at her feet. Mika closed her eyes.  
What had she been she thinking? Becoming someone else was far from easy. She had been deluded, conceited, reckless, even dragged Maki into it, and now her stupid mouth had ruined everything before it even began. _Maki, I’m sorry--_

“Mika,” Matsukawa called again. She opened her eyes, resolute. He was smiling noncommittally; she braced herself all the same. "Going for a different look?"

"We don't have time for this," Hanamaki interrupted. Matsukawa just stared. "I mean, it wasn't even funny."

"I'll do better next time twins decide to switch on us," Matsukawa said.

"I appreciate it," Hanamaki retorted. To the twins: “I didn’t say anything about the haircut, but I saw this coming. Look, this is a bit of a delicate position for us to get involved--”

“You are already involved,” Maki riposted. This time, she was staring right into Hanamaki’s eyes. “You told us everything, which neither of our dads would be too happy about, and if you don’t let us go, we’re telling them the real reason for this trip.”

“The real reason?” Mika asked.

“I don’t know,” Maki said, “I don’t think they’d be too happy that this educational visit was really a romantic escape.”

Matsukawa blushed an interesting shade of pink. Hanamaki’s mouth fell open.  
Disjointed evidence clicked into place. The way their teachers leaned in to talk to each other, insisted on group activities that would “make them discover new things at their own pace” while they stayed a pace behind, how Matsukawa had insisted that they go to Osaka despite how far away and expensive it was, allegedly because of how interesting, enriching, and other head-spinning adjectives it could be for the kids -- and not at all because it was a way to meet someone from Kyoto halfway, and _What is it, Takahiro?_

Maki smirked. 

Relief, admiration and glee successively surged through Mika. _My sister’s freaking awesome._

“It wasn’t _really_ \-- Are you blackmailing us?” Hanamaki scoffed, somehow looking both scandalized and impressed.

“They don’t have any proof,” Matsukawa said. “Besides, what does it change for you? It’s not like it affected your experience at all.”

“Didn’t it?” Maki countered. “Did Tooru know this trip doubled as your honeymoon, then?”

“ _Honeymoon?_ I wish,” Hanamaki muttered. Matsukawa elbowed him.

“Please, let us do this,” Maki asked with a fiery gaze, determination bordering on desperation in her voice. Mika laced her hand with hers and remarked: “Besides, you don’t have proof either.”

Matsukawa hummed to himself. He kept a straight face, but Mika caught the amused glint in his eyes.  
“Proof of what? We haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“Right,” Hanamaki said with a poker face to match his. “And maybe we couldn’t have said no to two adorable ten-year-olds with such moving motives.”

“If we _had_ noticed anything,” Matsukawa corrected, “we would have been blinded by our ideals and the prospect of, er, an old friend of ours finding his happiness. Oikawa knows we’re huge romantics.” Hanamaki raised a speaking brow at that. Matsukawa went on: “You guys are totally going to try and bring them back together, aren’t you? Not that I would _know_ , but if anyone here was interested in doing such a thing, I encourage them. Oikawa has been cryptically complaining about _stupid mistakes_ almost every single time he is drunk. It’s a nightmare.”

“You’re still happy that he’s treating you,” Hanamaki said under his breath.

“He does it with that kind of intent,” Matsukawa answered in the same tone. A sideways glance was enough for Mika to confirm that Maki had registered this important piece of information.

_He regrets it that much, yet he never told me anything. Did he think it would make me sad too, if I learned more about Dad?_

“Anyway,” Hanamaki said, interrupting Mika’s train of thought, “I wasn’t going to hold you back. But if you could not tell your dads about this…”

“We’d appreciate it,” Matsukawa ended. 

“It’s a deal,” Maki declared. Hanamaki smiled and made a show of shaking her hand, all business-like.

Matsukawa raised both hands in the air to show Mika that he had crossed fingers. 

“Good luck,” Matsukawa said. “We’ll be cheering for the both of you.”

When she finally settled down in her bus seat and looked out the window, Mika realized that she had imitated him. The fingers of her left hand were still crossed inside her pocket, and instead of uncrossing them, she raised both hands with her fingers crossed, like Matsukawa had done. Tightly, tightly, with her eyes closed.

Her dads might not believe that the whims of fortune had anything to do with the outcome of their relationship, but she, Mika, believed asking couldn’t hurt. For all of them, with every ounce of will she had, she made a wish. 

_Please, pretty please, let us be together again._

**Author's Note:**

> i’m aware that (apparently?) traveling with a blade, even a tiny one, can cause you a lot of trouble in japan. not sure if it applies to scissors, but if it does: let’s just say mika’s a rebel.
> 
> and yes. the next chapters of this oiyama fic will feature yamaguchi and oikawa, The Originals. and like, their POV. i know, groundbreaking. (the style will probably be a bit different as a result.)
> 
> if there is _anything_ you would like to know about the girls, please ask!


End file.
